MoonChild
by Empress Moonchild of Fantasia
Summary: Once upon a time, a young empress brought forth a brave warrior to save their world. Now years later, Fantasia is in peril once more & Fate brings these two people together for a second time. Atreyu/Childlike Empress
1. Prologue

Once upon a time, a young empress brought forth a brave warrior to save their world.

Now years later, Fantasia is in peril once more & Fate brings these two people together for a second time......

A beautiful, courageous empress longing for adventure.

A handsome, valiant warrior destined for a mission.

But even in the blackest darkness there is hope.

Even along the most difficult quest there is love.

This is their tale.

**DISCLAIMER:This story is based on the characters and places created by the author of The NES.**

**Author's Note: I'd like to thank my fellow NES fans & 'Net-Sisters: Cali, Val, & Lion for without their help and supporting this fic with their ideas and input for without them this story would have stayed buried in my mind for a very long time. I love you all**

"Why is it so dark?"

"In the beginning, it is always dark."

In the inky blackness a soft glow of light slowly began to revel two people: the first was a boy of twelve. He looked confusedly at the other opposite him--a girl who was about ten years of age--with whom he was sharing this dark silent space. His dark eyes narrowed as they moved from the girl's face to the hand she held out between them.

"What is that?"

The Childlike Empress's face was grave, her eyes staring down at her outstretched hand. It was a long moment before she made any response to his question. "One grain of sand," she whispered, "it is all that remains of my vast empire…."

The boy's face fell, his heart sinking as the reality of her words embedded itself deep in the pit of his stomach. "So, so Fantasia is totally destroyed?" he croaked.

"Yes."

"But, but hasn't everything in Fantasia been in vain?"

Moonchild shook her head, "No, Bastian, it has not been in as much vain as you might think it has."

Bastian stared at her in near bewilderment.

"With your help, my wold can be reborn," she continued, noting the look on her savior's face, " By your dreams and wishes Fantasia will live once again."

"How?"

There was a long pause, but when the Empress spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Open your hand…"

Bastian did as he was told.

Very, very carefully she placed in his hand the tiny grain of sand she'd been holding. He looked down as she withdrew her own hand from his; his eyes fixed on the wee object lying there. Looking closer, he saw the light, which had enabled him to see, was actually coming from this speck of sand. Moonchild's voice broke his thoughts.

"What are you going to wish for? Because without your wishes Fantasia will no longer exist."

Bastian swallowed hard, he felt as if the apple he'd eaten earlier had turned to lead in his stomach. "I…. I don't know," he confessed, "how, how will I know the wishes will come true, and besides, how many of them am I allowed to make?"

"You can make as many wishes as you choose," she told him, "For the more wishes you make and the more dreams you dream, the more extraordinary Fantasia will become."

Bastian's jaw dropped. "Really? You mean it?"

"Just trust me," was all she said, " try one wish and see what becomes of it. But there is one other thing that you must know."

"What?"

"As you age, both Fantasia and myself will age as well."

"But, but, how?"

Moonchild smiled, "Let me explain"

Bastian fell silent.

"For every year that you get older, Fantasia's lifespan will advance a bit more."

"Does that go for you too?"

"Yes, it goes for me also, but in a different sort of way."

"What way is that?"

"Every year of your own lifetime I, myself will be two years older then I am now. So in your fourteenth year Fantasia will be two years old and I will be twelve years of age".

"What you are saying is that as I grow older, both you and Fantasia age?"

"That is correct."

Bastian stared at her open mouthed and dumbstruck.

"Now," she said, smiling, "about that first wish…."

Bastian got the hint. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking. It was a long time before he spoke.

"Well, then my first wish is…."

Smiling wistfully, Moonchild let her own eyes slide close….


	2. The Empress

**DISCLAIMER: The names, people, places, etc are all owned by the late Michal Ende & Warrnor Bros. .All other ideas, thoughts, etc, are owned by me. All comments, feedback, tips, etc are accepted.**

The red gold of the rising sun cams slowly across the horizon, bathing the Howling Forest in its light. Chirps of birds could be heard from the tress or the sky as they called to one another. Small mice and other creatures scurried along the cold, damp ground. A unicorn's head lifted as a branch nearby snapped. It paused, then lowered its head again to continue it's breakfast.

In the lighting sky, a snowy owl flew towards an effulgent structure nestled in a heap of mountain in the distance. As it drew near, this owl could make out the elegant mass of trees and plants that made up the massive garden surrounding the building it was heading for. There were ivy entwining all up and along the great stone walls outlining the building. These walls seemed to be made of the finest stone in all of Fantasia for they seemed to gleam with an unearthly light. The owl swooped into the garden, weaving its way through the branches of trees. It passed indiscreet pools of water; fine marble benches embedded here and there into the stone walls. It glided alongside perfectly tended clusters of flowers. Roses in every color one could think of, carnations, violets, lilies-of-the-valley, and so many unknown others. Their brilliance of color and fragrances along with the exotic trees and plants dazzled all those who made their way through this piece of land.

But the garden was nothing compared to the building that rose above it. Tall, sleek, with numerous towers, archways, terraces, balconies, stables, and so much more, rising to reach the heavens, the topmost tower was hidden in the clouds. All of this, every square inch of this building was made of the finest ivory in all Fantasia. This whole place was so white, if one were outside the towering mountain this piece of land was enclosed in, both people and creatures would have to shield one's eyes to keep from getting near-blinded by reflection of the sun.

This majestic region was the heart of Fantasia. Its name was the Ivory Tower and was the home to the Childlike Empress Moonchild.

Inside the Tower, was a perfect marble and tiled maze of hallways, rooms, and stairways. Like the outside, it was all constructed of ivory. On the main floor there were sitting rooms, a ballroom, a dining room as well as a banquet hall, two kitchens with adjoining pantries. One was for the servants victuals and the other was where meals for the Empress and her court were prepared There were sewing and mending rooms, a few fitting rooms, a conference/meeting room,--this was mainly used by the Empress's advisers rather then the Empress herself--a music hall, the servants quarters and a few large heavily locked rooms where the treasury was kept. Not to mention amongst all of this was the throne room.

The second and third floors held a few offices where bookwork was done, libraries, and washrooms for those who were staying less then a day. Refined hallways led to guestrooms and even a few more sitting areas. There were curved or straight stairways leading up to towers or down to the basements and dungeons. All the floors of the Tower were made of either ivory marble or tile. Along the hallways were soft, thick carpets of ivory, cream or some pale pastel shade with simple, elegant designs upon them. Rich, delicately made tapestries hung alongside the pictures hanging on the walls. Some pictures or tapestries held animals, flowers or scenery. There were beautiful paintings of dragons or unicorns, mermaids, horses, - both normal and winged - fairies and elves. Some of the windows even had simple stained glass carvings on them.

At the end of a long exquisite hall on the seventh floor were a pair of enchanting plain double doors. Beyond those doors lay an enormous bedchamber done in nothing but the purest white, ivory fabrics and furnishings. At the far end of the room was the most exquisite canopied divan: the soft pillows and comforter were made of the finest ivory satin, the sheets were the whitest silk, and the blankets in between the sheets and comforter had been made from the softest wool. Above, a satin and lace mass of ivory fabric came down in a triangular shape on all sides of this bed that could easily fit three people if not more. The sides of the canopy were gracefully pulled back and held together by pieces of silk that fell delicately to the carpeted floor surrounding the bed.

Sun streamed in from a nearby window, its light falling upon the pillows. Eighteen-year-old Moonchild's eyes opened halfway before closing again. She rolled over mumbling slight curses beneath her breath as she pulled the warm bedclothes up under her chin. A knock from the other side of the bedchamber doors roused her senses but made no response. The knock came again, louder this time.

"Your Highness?"

_Great, it was Brijatte, her head chambermaid. Just what she needed first thing in the morning._

"What is it..?"

"Are you up?"

"No."

"But Your Highness, you need to get up. For you have a meeting just before noon, then, you have that appointment in the throne room with the ambassadors from the silver city this afternoon as well as the appointment with your dressmaker for a new dress right after that, and then..."

"Brijatte may I _please_ do one thing at a time?"

An exasperated sigh could be heard from the other side of the doors. "Of course Your Highness. Would you like breakfast?"

"Yes, please."

"The usual?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Your welcome Your Highness." Brijatte's footsteps died away.

Moonchild smiled to herself and shifted her position; hugging one of the smaller rounded satin pillows closer to her chest.

Nearly a half-hour later, a knock at the doors told Moonchild that her handmaiden, Luanna, had returned with breakfast. Lifting her head slightly, she called to her that it was all right for her to enter the room before letting it fall back to where it was before. With her eyes still closed, Moonchild could hear the door open then close followed by the light sound of movement made by a pair of feet crossing the room to the bed. Less then a minute had passed before the gentle rattling told her a silver tray was being placed on the bedside table. Trying to ignore the growling inside her stomach, she turned on her opposite side, burying her face in the plush silky pillows.

"Would you like to have the curtains open?"

There was no denying it; she had to get up. Sighing, Moonchild rolled over onto her back before placing her small hands over her face in order to stifle the wail threading to escape her lips.

"Very well."

Footsteps could be heard on the marbled floor as they crossed to a window opposite the bed. A soft swishing informed her the crushed velvet of the curtains concealing the window were being drawn apart. Rubbing her palms over her face to chase away the lingering effects of sleep, Moonchild fought back a yawn and sat up before moving over to the side of the massive bed where Luanna stood at gentle attention with her hands behind her back.

"Morning My Lady. Did you sleep well last night?"

Pouring herself a generous mug of tea, the Empress smiled at her favorite handmaiden. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did sleep very well. Thank you for asking."

Noting the corner of a closed book peeking out from under the pillows Luanna reached past her Empress and retrieved it. She glanced at the title then at Moonchild with a mischievous grin: "Been reading up on your people eh?"

Dark blue eyes sparkled mischievously. " I know some of my court-Brijatte and Carion being two of them-feel that as Empress I should know only the most important and basic things concerning my world and its people." As you and I both know, I feel otherwise. I think it is important for me to know as much as I can about Fantasia's inhabitants. Now that I am a bit older, I believe I should be more involved when it comes helping my people in their times of need or even learning about the way they live-whither its "proper" to do so or not."

"I agree Your Highness. You SHOULD be allowed more insight into the lives and ways of Fantasians. You have a good head on your shoulders." Luanna shook her head sadly. "I think it is wrong of some to keep knowledge from you just because you are a woman. You have just as much capability of leading your people in times of distress or even in casual interaction as any man. Why Brijatte and Carion still treat you as if you were an ailing child is beyond me."

Moonchild gave an exasperated sigh and looked towards the ceiling. " Luanna, you know how Brijatte and Carion are. They've become overly protective ever since the Nothing. And with them trying to get me to live life the way THEY think I should is driving me mad. I don't want my people to see and respect me as 'just the Empress' I want them to see and respect me for who I am not what I am." She set down her empty cup and buried her face in her hands, "Its not fair. Lu. Its just not fair..."

Luanna put a comforting hand on Moonchild's shoulder: "I know sweetie, i know it isn't easy being the Empress of Fantasia. 'To be such is indeed a great honer But along with such an honer comes great burdens and expectations of such importance that there are those who do not want or take the time to see the brave, intelligent, and independent person their beloved Empress truely is." She gently ran a loving hand over the top of Moonchild's bowed head. "Just keep on being the person who you are and always strive to be the best you can be in spite of people's objections and you will be fine."

Moonchild raised her head, her sad eyes meeting with Luanna's. "Thank you for your and the other handmaidens supportive encouragement. It means a great deal to me."

Luanna embraced her mistress and friend, "Anytime My Lady, anytime."

A knock from the bedchamber door made them both look up.

"Go see who it is."

Luanna quickly did as instructed. A few minutes later she was hurrying back, the silver-edged white material of her skirts brushing her ankles as she approached the bed, a serious look on her face. "Brijatte says Carion needs to see you in his living quarters immediately."

At her words, Moonchild threw back her covers--Luanna in the meantime had managed to seize the tray before it could go flying onto the floor--and leaped out of bed, running towards the door still clad in a sleeveless silk shift that ended just above her calves. "It must be something urgent!" Carion would not summon her unless it was important. She reached one of the doors and turned to look back. "Could you bring the rest of my tea please?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. Meet me there in five minutes or so."

Moonchild dashed out of her bedchamber. Brijatte gasped in horror: "Empress, come back! You're not even dressed yet!"

Ignoring her protests Moonchild flew down the halls and stairways toward Carion's quarters. Skidding to a halt in front of her head servant and adviser's door, Moonchild gasped, "Carion, it's me!"

"Come in then."

Moonchild wrenched open one of the double doors. "Carion, what is going on?"

Carion turned around, took one look at his Empress and his mouth fell open in astonished shock, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "Empress! Please cover up."

"That is exactly what I was trying to tell her" a voice from behind snapped. Brijatte, panting, had entered and was now starting to arrange the dressing gown around Moonchild's shoulders.

"What is it Carion?" Moonchild asked, concern filling her voice "What happened?"

"There is a young man here to see you Milady," Carion informed her, "he says that he has a very important message to bring you."

"What is the message?"

"He did not say exactly, all he told me was that it had to do with some sort of beast."

"Who is this person?"

"His name is Mandor, Your Highness. Lord Mandor."

"Then please inform him that I will indeed see him, and at once."

"Not until you are dressed you won't!" Brijatte snapped.

Moonchild knew better then to argue. "Give me a half hour."

"As you wish Your Highness." Carion bowed and held open the door.

Luanna was patiently waiting outside the door. As soon as they emerged, she handed the Empress another cup of tea. "Do you need anything?"

Moonchild took the cup and smiled before starting off down the hall at a very fast pace. "Thank you for the tea, and yes, will you please go run me a bath?"

"Right away My Lady."

Moonchild then turned to Brijatte, her free hand on her hip and a stubborn look in her eyes. "I refuse to wear any fancy gowns for such a simple meeting. To get dressed up for such a thing is unnecessary. One of my everyday dresses will do just fine."

"As you wish." Moonchild gave her a tense smile then rushed down the hall back towards her room, drinking her tea as fast as she could along the way.

It looked like it was going to be one of those days.

Thirty minutes later, the Empress, wearing an unadorned pale blue dress, with her hair pulled back in a simple yet graceful ponytail, followed Carion into on of the sitting rooms to greet their guest.

As soon as they entered, Lord Mandor rose from his place on the rose and forest-green shaded sofa. He was almost as tall as Carion and his body gave a lean, sinewy appearance: His face, pale, arrogant, looked as if it held a secret expression. The brows arching over pale icy-blueness of his eyes were a shade darker then the shoulder blade-length platinum blonde hair neatly tied back with a silk ribbon. He was clad in black shirt and trousers that looked as if they'd been perfectly tailored for him. As the Empress of Fantasia drew near, his finely shaped mouth curled into a sly smile.

"Your Highness." He bowed slightly taking one of her hands so he could lay a chaste kiss upon it.

Annoyance flickered in Moonchild's eyes as she managed to jerk her hand as gracefully as she could out of his own._ 'What an arrogant man!'_ "Carion said that you have a message for me," she stated curtly. "Something about a beast?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A dragon."

Moonchild walked briskly over to a decoratively carved armless chair that was overlaid in a deep red cloth with flowers enticed upon its surface, and sat with her hands folded in her lap. "What about it?"

Mandor took a deep breath: "A ferocious black dragon has been raising havoc all over Fantasia, Your Highness."

"What sort of havoc?"

"It has been burning towns and cities, eating children and other creatures of Fantasia. Basically terrorizing the whole land."

Moonchild's eyes narrowed. "When did this all start to occur?"

"About two months ago Your Highness. It has taken me a month to get here."

"I see." She stood up. "Carion?"

Carion stepped forward. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"May I see you for a minute please?"

"Yes, of course."


	3. Suspisions

**Chapter Rating: T [for very mild profanity]**

**DISCLAIMER: The names, people, places, etc of The NES are all owned by the late Michal Ende & Warrnor Bros. Copyright © 1984. I'm just borrowing them for fun. All other ideas, thoughts, etc, are owned by me. All comments, feedback, tips, etc are welcomed. Please be detailed in your comments, feedback, tips etc. Your feedback and responses are much appreciated.**

**AUTHORS NOTES: Much appreciation and loving gratitude goes to my fellow 'net-sister Zari for all her brilliant help with this chapter-I don't know what' I'd do without you!**

Cairon followed her out into the hallway.

"Empress, really, what is this about? I think he's a fine man. What could there possibly be to discuss?"

Moonchild straightened ever more than before and looked Cairon squarely in the eye, shocking him a bit on the inside. "I can't bring myself to trust him, Cairon. There's something about him...his story just doesn't add up. He knows too much-"

"Empress, be reasonable! You're being irrational!"

"Just because I don't trust someone means I'm being 'irrational'? I KNOW there's something wrong, Cairon, and you can't contradict me on the fact that I've _never _been wrong before." She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as her voice became dangerously low and challenging at that last statement. Before Cairon could make a single move or utter a sound, she added one last thing for effect, in a soft, vulnerable voice. "If you have ever trusted me in the span of your life, you will trust me now."

Cairon's shoulders slumped, his eyes softened and grew weary. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I am your head adviser, Empress. I have never been known to distrust your judgment," The Empress's eyes brightened, thinking she had won; however, her eyes darkened at his next words. "But...I must disagree with you, and thus, I am overriding your sentiment. The law clearly states that if the Empress is unfit to make a decision, her head adviser must make it for her-"

"I am in the utmost condition of my time, Cairon! You have no right to-"

"But I DO, Empress. I realize you have been going to sleep early yet awaking with dark circles beneath your eyes and so, your judgment may be impaired in this instance. I regret to taking your power from you at this moment, but I assure you, Mandor is a perfect gentleman. Give him a chance," He moved aside and gestured toward the door. "After you."

Despite how childish it was, Moonchild felt the smallest pricks of tears behind her eyes. '_He's doing it again, treating me like a child when I am perfectly capable of making this decision on my own_.' Clenching her fists, she gradually, painfully unfolded her arms to let them fall limp at her sides. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes for a moment in order to regain her composure then opened them slowly and turned to the double doors.

As she pushed them open for the second time, she couldn't calm the feeling that she was walking to her doom.

An hour later Moonchild let out a frustrated sigh as her handmaidens followed her silently towards the conference room of the Ivory Tower. Due to this 'emergency meeting' with Mandor her schedule had been abruptly changed for her before she could speak let alone get her thoughts organized in order to vocalize about what she thought should be done next. She also couldn't believe within the short time they had spent with Lord Mandor that Carion, without even asking for her opinion or considering her feelings on the idea, had eagerly agreed to Mandor's request to reside at the Tower! What was wrong with him! She could feel both her shoulder and neck muscles beginning to tighten with worried stress. The sun had risen only three hours ago but the day already seemed endless. She wasn't quite sure how she had survived so many years of this...

Quickly pasting a smile on her face she hoped was convincing, she opened the door to the desired room and stepped inside, handmaidens following suit. A man whom appeared to be his late thirties jumped to his feet from the chair on which he had been resting at once, only to sink down and bow before his Empress immediately after. Inwardly screaming at the sight of yet _another _person bowing down to her, she outwardly let out an inaudible sigh and forced a grin. "Rise, good sir. There is no need for such formalities. After all, we do see each other every few weeks at my head handmaiden's insistence."

The man gradually rose and smiled humorously at her, eyes twinkling as he turned and brought forth a small sketchbook and forest green material. "My Lady, Brijatte has ordered me to create an elegant dress for your dinner this evening with Lord Mandor. Now, she had me write down the detail and draw an up-to-par design. But I know what she came up with is not what you'd really want, I remember you telling me about a gown worn by one of the representatives of the Silver City a while back and how much you liked the style of it. So I took it upon myself to design something similar. We both know Brijatte can be a bit...overzealous when things aren't to her standards. Frankly, though, I'd rather know you are happy with what you wear." The man's gentle face and eyes resonated concern and sincerity. If only just a tad; Moonchild realized he was starting to decipher how unhappy she was and how much she longed for freedom.

Coughing to clear her throat and thoughts, she smile genuinely. "You're a very clever man, Mr. Hinkron. Thank you. May I see the design, please?" He nodded quickly and handed her both the sketchbook and what she supposed to be the material: The material of the cloth was surprisingly silky and comfortable, unlike the itchy and lacy material normally chosen. Now, the design...this design itself was _gorgeous: _It consisted of a deep forest green which took on an off-the-shoulder style with a curved close-fitting bodice whose neckline stopped just below the collarbone. The angel sleeves ended at the elbows while a series of tiny slightly raised silver dots, carefully placed in a slim line at the base of the bodice on the back of the gown, curved slightly upward where they were adjacent to the hips before curving around the waist to meet in a delicate point just below the belly button. The hem of this simple gown would gracefully brush her ankles as she moved about.

Moonchild didn't even realize how much she was smiling until she looked up from the sketchpad and her cheeks hurt, but she paid this no mind as she hugged the dressmaker tightly around the neck. Jenzalia and Luanna held back their giggles and _"aw's_" as they had been taught, but inside, they were dying of laughter at the scene before them. At first, the man was startled to have the eighteen-year-old Empress embracing him, for such a display of affection was surely against every etiquette she had ever learned. But he soon calmed and tentatively returned the embrace, beaming at having made her so happy. When they pulled away, Moonchild was still incredibly ecstatic.

"Thank you _so_ much, Mr. Hinkron. The dress is _perfect_ as is the material. Everything's perfect." The man laughed, utterly delighted.

"Splendid, Your Highness, just splendid! Thank you very much for your time. I'll get started on making the dress post haste!" With that, the man gave a quick bow and scurried off.

Moonchild then turned to her handmaidens. "All right. We've still got a lot to do before tonight. Might as well get moving." Her voice withered somewhat at the end of her sentence, her lifestyle incessantly haunting her. They nodded simultaneously, following her once again to a much larger room next door, in which five Argamanths were resolutely sitting in chairs to await The Empress's arrival. Upon her entrance, they had started to stand and customarily bow, but halted immediately when Moonchild held up her hand. "No offense to any of you, but please, I believe I've had enough bowing today. Let's get started, shall we?"

She sat down at the head of the round table, her handmaidens resting in chairs against the wall behind her, and they began. Really, the meeting was relatively_ boring._ The people only needed to know if they had permission for certain projects or to disprove certain potentially harmful rumors going around their area of Fantasia. When the gathering finally adjourned hours later, and the grateful, now more chipper people had evacuated the room, Moonchild stood, inhaling and exhaling heavily. It had been a _very_ long day for her; what with the urgent meeting with Mandor, the dressmaker and the Amarganthians. She was mentally drained but forced herself to keep her energy up for she _still_ had to prepare for dinner this evening with said Lord. She didn't trust Mandor at all and the fact that he was now a guest made it all the more...unnerving.

The minute Moonchild grudgingly made it back to her room, she was surrounded by her handmaidens; the girls who were like her sisters. Working diligently but gently they pulled off her dress and shift. After undoing her ponytail, they rapidly, expertly, removed her corset, knowing how much she hated the thing. Breathing in deeply when the infernal contraption was finally off, she made her way to her washroom, vaguely hearing Brijatte say she was going to fetch the night's attire which had arrived late that afternoon.

The washroom was enormous: A pure white deep, circular tub edged in silver with white-gold faucets arching over it on all sides with steps leading up to it stood in the middle of the room. A large rounded sink was standing up against the wall on the opposite side of this magnificent tub while a porcelain chamber pot that 'flushed', so to speak, when a chain was pulled, was hidden behind a curtain next to the sink. A separate shower stall also done in silver and white was located on the far end of the room. The whole area seemed to shimmer from the highly polished silver and white tiled floor, walls and ceiling. Twyla and Luanna fetched the towels, soap, and cleaning supplies while the rest worked on turning on all of the faucets surrounding the tub. When the water was hot enough, Moonchild stepped in, carefully being helped by Lupianya and Sertala. As the girls began to clean her, Moonchild voiced her concerns about Mandor. Though the girls told her not to worry about it, she couldn't help but do so. That was when Jesmandala spoke:

"I think you should trust your instincts. When I saw him walking through the Tower earlier, he seemed..._conceited _and gave me this very strange, almost frightening vibe. I don't like him."

That didn't help Moonchild in the least. She was already uneasy about him, and seeing as Jes was just about as good a judge of character as she...she had to admit, she was scared. The handmaidens must have sensed this, for they became gentler, more tender and less hurried in their movements of cleansing her.

Lupianya approached the side of the tub with a towel. "Hikyura Nam Eshtetsu," She grinned understandingly at Moonchild's and her other friends baffled faces, though Sertala's visage showed some hints of recognition. "That means 'We shall be here. Take heart.' in native Yanam. Understand that with all of your heart and soul, all right? Promise?" Moonchild's face showed loving recognition in the form of a radiant smile. She was about to hug the girl before she realized she was soaked in water and soap and...well, unclothed. Lupia smiled as well, seeing what was being stopped from happening, and extended her arms to the girl who was practically her sister."You know, I've never been afraid of wet, soapy, indecent people. The Stridges take a hug from a waterlogged ally as a compliment!"

Moonchild moved forward and wrapped her arms around her friend. "I'll find out whatever I can about him, I swear." She rose from the tub and hurriedly took the towel from Lupia's hands and lowered her head as she wrapped the soft matirial around herself.

The harmonious air was soon shattered when she looked up to find Brijatte standing in the doorway seperating her dressing room and washroom. Lupianya immediately resumed the silent, expected role of those of her rank.

Brijatte's face was a mask of pure fury even though her voice conveyed calm anger when she finally was able to speak:_ "I will only say that was one of the most disgraceful actions I have ever seen a supposedly proper woman do in all my years! By the Gods and Goddesses above, My Lady. You should know far better! _Now, come along. We must get you into your attire for this evening." With a sharp twist of her heel, she was out the door and scurrying to the young woman's wardrobe, Moonchild jogging along silently to catch up-as jogging was "not acceptable behavior for a lady, who should only walk with elegance and grace," as was so often lectured to her by both Brijatte and Cairon. Upon entering her dressing room Moonchild was delighted to see the dress she had chosen Mr. Hinkron to craft for her gracefully arranged on a chair. Brijatte, however, let out a loud gasp and threw a hand over her mouth in the utmost horror, scowling wretchedly as she tore the dress off the chair and threw it to the floor.

"What in all of Fantasisa-?_ Why the idiotic fool! This is the last straw. I have HAD IT with him and his designs! I want him removed from this residence immediately! This is not what I ordered from that...that...MAN of a dressmaker!" _She directed her fierce gaze to Moonchild, who inwardly flinched. "_Unless..._ "

Moonchild choked back a gasp herself as she felt anger awaken inside her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing! Her dressmaker was one of the_ very _few people who understood how she _truly_ felt about her royal position. She felt she was old enough and had the right to make decisions on her own without always having to 'seek permission' from either Carion or Brijatte. The Empress stood perfectly still in front of the said woman who started to walk the room in her tirade, somewhat regretting it when Brijatte's gaze hardened even more than it had previously, squarely challenging her Empress. Moonchild however, remained strong. "You will do no such thing! It was _I_ who wanted to see what he had in mind and when I saw the design, I loved it so much I made the decision to have him make the gown for me, though he warned me about how you would react to me making my own choices concerning what I wear without consulting you beforehand. So if you want to punish him, you will have to go through_ me_ first for I am very happy with him and see no reason to let him go just because _you_ are unhappy with the results of his clothing designs."

"Fine," Brijatte sniffed roughly, clearly still angry. "You may wear the dress. But I INSIST you wear this." She held up a tight-fitting corset between them.

" Oh, for The Gods Sake, Brijatte! You KNOW how much I hate wearing those things! They make my upper body ache all over and I can never seem to breathe properly."

Brijatte placed her hands on her hips, rage still present in her eyes. "Young lady, I have already been _more_ than lenient with you tonight. Do NOT make me go back on my word because you're choosing to act like a spoiled-"

Instantaneously, her opponent leaned forward with rage in her own eyes though the words stung as much as if her head handmaiden had slapped her across the face. How could Brijatte even have the nerve to accuse her of being 'spoiled!' "How...how DARE you accuse me of such a thing! We BOTH know I am FAR from what you accuse me of! I am MORE then grateful for every single thing in my life!" Moonchild turned her back and pressed her fingers to her temple as she tried to regain control of her emotions. With her back still towards Brijatte she heaved a reluctant sigh. "All right, then. If you're so insistent on putting the wretched device back on me, then do so. For I do not have the time nor the emotional strength to get into an argument with you. Just please make it quick and painless as you can."

Unfortunately for Moonchild, it was the _exact_ opposite and she was _certain_ the woman was doing it purposely. The corset was only halfway done after about twenty minutes, Moonchild drew in a quick breath in pain as Brijatte pulled the strings too tight.

" OW! Brijatte! That hurts! Can't you be more gentle?"

"My apologies Your Highness." She didn't sound sorry at all, but Moonchild held her tongue. Eventually, after at least fifteen more minutes of torture on Moonchild's part, the corset was completely done and her friends were dressing her.

"I'm sorry about what happened with Aunt Brijatte. I completely understand why you reacted the way you did, as do the others. Right, girls?" Luanna consoled as she began to work with her best friend's hair.

"Are you kidding! Of course we do! That woman is a witch! I don't know how you can live with her Lu." Jesmandala quipped, momentarily stopping in her task of smoothing out Moonchild's sleeves. The Empress's laughter filled the room before Twyla spoke.

"I like Mr. Hinkron. I'm glad he's starting to see you the way we do. I know he is more concerned about your feelings and happiness then meeting Brijatte's overbearing demands." Twyla smiled cutely as the rest nodded or touched her shoulder in a comforting gesture. Moonchild beamed in loving gratefulness at the six females who had become like her family.

"Now, what do you think of your hair being upswept and held back with this hair ornament with a few curls gently falling over your ears...? And may I suggest you wear these earrings and this necklace?" Luanna asked, swiping a couple tendrils of hair over her ears and holding the rest up in the suggested fashion with one hand, while the other held up a shimmering silver hair clip in the design of a lily. The earrings consisted of short pearl strings, while the necklace pictured a polished amber moon on a dark silver chain. A bright smile was brought to Moonchild's face as she looked at the potential hair position in the mirror across from her and turned her eyes to Luanna. Her best friend beamed back at her delight and immediately got to work.

When all was prepared, Moonchild was standing in front of the full length mirror grinning almost insanely in her happiness. Her handmaidens surrounded her, smiling themselves at a job more than well done. Moonchild turned her head when Sertala gently laid a hand on her shoulder and directed her eyes to the Empress's image in the mirror as her charge followed suit. "You look utterly heart-stopping."

"Empress! Come along, quickly! It's certainly not ladylike to be tardy when in the presence of a Lord!"

Groaning, her good mood shattered at the reminder that all of this was to meet with _HIM_, she gently squeezed Sertala's hand in much thanks as she hurried to fall into step beside the ever-firm and controlling Brijatte.

Making their way to the dining room, Brijatte droned on and on about how it was "proper" to do this and "not proper" to do that. Finally, Moonchild could no longer stand it and halted abruptly, causing Brijatte to do the same as well as the handmaidens following them.

"How old am I, Brijatte?" Moonchild asked in a sharp tone. It could have been a trick of the light, but she thought she caught a hint of fear flicker across the older woman's eyes.

"E-Eighteen, Your Highness."

"And how many times have I heard these infernal rules?"

"I-"

"_That's right_. You _do_ know I have had this lecture memorized for years now don't you? _So it would be greatly appreciated if you would please just spare me this one time_." Huffing, Moonchild swiftly continued down the hall, her handmaidens following loyally and none so discreetly glaring at the elder woman as they passed.

Brijatte stood rooted to the floor, stunned beyond belief at the Empress's boldness. Abruptly, she shook off the train of thought with a shake of the shoulders and straightening of the back, raising her head as fire burned once more in her eyes. That girl was getting more and more defiant, though the other handmaidens said it was more independence rather then defiance, every day. But whatever it was, she was determined to make sure it was stopped. One way or another.

Moonchild took her place at the head of the table, inwardly grudgingly allowing Brijatte to push her in afterward. Mandor, dressed in a dark blue shirt with a sable cape cascading downwards from his shoulders, brown trousers with matching boots and a gold belt around his waist, sat two seats to her left while Cairon was directly at her right as usual. There was silence all throughout the soup and salad courses until Mandor broke it when Brijatte began to place the main entree in front of them.

"I have heard of the Ivory Tower's beauty back at home but never had I imagined it could be anything like this!" He smiled directly at Moonchild who, though she could sense the bad feeling about Mandor returning to rest in the pit of her stomach, forced a small smile back.

"Thank you, my lord. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us. Would you do us the honor of telling about your home?"

Mandor's grin seemed to flicker maliciously, but it returned to normal just as quickly. Moonchild appeared to be the only one to notice this small detail for Cairon was uncharacteristically practically jumping out of his seat in anticipation and she had a feeling Brijatte was in the kitchens listening intently, excitedly to the conversation.

"It would be my utmost pleasure. My home is the wealthy city of Regnam, just northwest of Amarganth. There, the children are taught from a young age all of the known wealthiest trades in Fantasia. When they are old enough, they leave home to put their talents to use. They send the money they earn back to their families, and they pass on to their children the same skills, who, when they are of age, then combine their money with their parents' to send to their grandparents back in Regnam. They keep the necessary amount to survive, of course, but most of it goes back to the first generations birthplace. This not only maintains our town's wealth, but it also gives to those of other nations."

While Cairon exclaimed in great admiration of Regnam's way of life, Moonchild pondered about what has just been said. She sensed there was something very_...odd _with Lord Mandor's answer. It was _too_ perfect. She inconspicuously shook her head; thinking perhaps she should learn more before judging the guest sitting with them. "You must be very proud my lord. Your way of life is one about which some Fantasian nations can only dream of!"

Mandor laughed at Carion's comment. "Yes, yes. We are quite proud, indeed. Is there anything else you'd like to know?" His smile flashed malevolence once again, but just like before, Moonchild was the only one who appeared to see it .

"If it is not troublesome to you, my lord, I wish to know how you got word of the dragon, and how you came to the Ivory Tower?"

"Regnam first came to know of the beast after an attack on Argamanth about two months back. The library the poor Argamanthians cherished so much was partially destroyed, and even the acid around it showed signs of distress! One of its messengers came to us, as well as all of the surrounding nations, and told us of the dragon, giving a detailed description. Then, he hurried off, leaving us to tremble in fear. A council meeting was quickly called to order. I volunteered to go because our representative to you, Empress, was with child and nearly due at the time. So I left at dawn and traveled for weeks to reach the Ivory Tower, with a few minor setbacks delaying my journey."

"How gentlemanly of you to take a delicate woman's place, Lord Mandor! Your Lady was not upset at your abrupt leaving, then?" Cairon chirped curiously, still bubbling over how much of a gentleman the man was. However, Mandor's answers to the questions were making Moonchild even more suspicious than before.

Mandor laughed again, though there was a rough hint to this laugh that made the Empress uneasy. "No, no, my good man. There is no Lady of which to speak, you see, for I am not married, nor am I seeing anyone."

Cairon's eyes widened considerably, and Moonchild froze inside at her adviser's next words. "Really? I wouldn't have suspected such a strapping man as yourself to be without a wife at your side! That makes two eligible beings at this table then I'm afraid. The Empress, too, is unattached, though she is in need of a proper husband."

Caron was interrupted by Brijatte who had entered the dining room bearing the dessert. And from the look on her face Moonchild could see she had been right about the older woman's eavesdropping at the doors separating the dining room from the kitchens. But The Empress could do nothing except to swallow slowly to keep a frustrated scream from escaping her throat. "Indeed, she is! The girl is becoming _quite rebellious_, you know, and _desperately needs _someone to keep her _grounded_. Cairon and I constantly tell her she needs a _proper husband_. One who will be capable of running Fantasia well. But she insists she can manage just fine without one!. She even has dared to let it be known that if she can't find the right man, she'll continue to rule Fantasia alone! ALONE!"

The entire room burst into laughter, but Moonchild was the only one not laughing. Inside, she was seething at both Cairon and Brijatte. _'They were doing it AGAIN! She was supposed to live her life, not theirs! What was worse, they were dropping hints to HIM about...about...'_ She couldn't even finish the thought without feeling nauseated. She dug her nails into the wood of her exquisite chair, as it was all she could do to stop from exploding in front of their "guest", as well as to let loose the tears that were gathering fast behind her eyes. Her stomach knotted as she forced a tense smile, trying not to show any sign she was uncomfortable with the way Mandor continued to stare at her or how humiliated her head adviser and handmaiden were making her feel. She took a deep breath as she tried to force her mind back onto the conversation at hand, praying none of them could see how uncomfortable she was inside.

Mandor flashed yet another elusive smile."Your Highness?"

Her fingers dug into her chair again. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

Moonchild shook herself and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Yes, yes, of course I am."

Ice-blue eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

The Empress closed her eyes for a moment then opened them. "My lord, I am perfectly alright. I'm...just tired that's all. It's been a long day. There's no need to worry about me."

"I see." Mandor rose from his place. "Then in that case, may I escort you back to your chambers?" Moonchild stared at him. "That is," he continued, "if my lady permits it."

Feeling both Carion and Brijatte's eyes rigorously on her, she looked at the offered hand and her eyes shifted away for a moment before flickering upwards to look at the man standing before her. Another long pause, then: "Why, yes. Of course. Thank you" This said and done, she felt she had no choice but to lay her small hand into his and leave the room.

They walked along the corridors in silence. Moonchild glanced nervously from Mandor then straight ahead from time to time. She didn't know why, but for some odd reason he was making her more uneasy then before. '_Stop it', _she told herself, _'all he is doing is taking you back to your chambers like he's supposed to!' _When they reached the double doors; Mandor paused long enough to open one of them for her.

Moonchild briskly entered and turned to face her guest. "Well, Lord Mandor, I thank you for the escourt to my rooms. I hope you have a good nights rest and I shall see you in the morning."

Mandor bowed "It is my pleasure Your Highness. I too, bid you a good evening." Moonchild's eyes tried not to widen when she saw the hungry look in his eyes as he gazed upon her body while straightening up. With a curt nod, he left, closing the door in front of him.

Arms wrapped around herself, the Empress leaned against the door, her eyes shut tightly as she struggled to regain control of herself. Pressing her finely shaped mouth together she slid down to the floor, her entire being shaking all over as she recalled what just happened. After a few moments Moonchild rose and signaled to her handmaidens that she was tired and ready for bed, grudgingly knowing they had to help her get ready. They smiled at her and began to help her undress and redress while she told them of the night's events. Her tone made them all slow their moments in their various tasks as they listened intently to what their Empress had to say about Lord Mandor.

"Our guest doesn't seem trustworthy, does he?" she finally asked, knowing her handmaidens were not as easily fooled by such Fantasians. "His answers to my questions of his home, how he obtained his knowledge of the dragon, and then how he came here to the Ivory Tower were _flawless_. There was _absolutely nothing _to question and that...it doesn't sit right. I knew from the moment I met him there was something amiss, but when I tried to tell Cairon, he treated me like I was ten years old again! Even back then, though, he grudgingly agreed with my judgment...but not now. It's like he...he's been hypnotized or something."

"Well I wouldn't worry about it anymore tonight. You'll get worry wrinkles!" Moonchild smiled minutely, gently at Sertala's attempts to ease her fears, while the others laughed along with the joke. She was grateful to know they silently agreed with her. They were her only real friends in this gilded prison and she had a strange feeling she'd need to depend on that friendship in the future.

"I suppose you're right. I'm probably just overanalyzing things." Moonchild closed her eyes once more and let out a weary sigh, lifting her now free hair so Luanna could connect the clasp at the neck of her simple nightgown.

"That's right. No need to worry about anything, except getting some sleep. There, now. All set." Luanna stood back, hands on her hips with a great smile on her face. Moonchild turned around and smiled back at her friends. She felt so much freer without that stupid corset restricting her breathing and comfortable movement. The girls bade her goodnight and left her alone.

The Empress's grin turned to a frown immediately after the door closed. She _hated_ being dressed for bed-or any other time for that matter-as she just was. She _was_ eighteen, for The Gods Sake! She could damned well dress herself! But NO, Cairon and Brijatte DEMANDED she be smothered and treated like a china doll on a prestigious shelf! Tears gathered in her eyes for the third time this night. She never imagined in all her life she could at times hate her status so much. Hate this freedomless TOWER so much...

Those tears began to fall in great numbers as she made her way over to her window seat where she gathered her knees up to her chest before letting her tears really flow as she thought of someone from her past. Someone she had never forgotten:

Atreyu.

Looking back in her memory, she remembered specifically how she had smiled gaily when she read about how men and women were treated equally in his tribe. Back then, she had been smiling because equality was reigning even there in a small nation of hunters. Now she was crying because that was what she longed to feel most in all of Fantasia: equality to men and to be seen by her people as more then 'The Empress'. And then there was this 'matchmaking' business: For the past two years Carion and Brijatte had been pressuring her to marry-and tonight they were doing it again now the "conveniently single" Mandor had stepped into their midst. Would she ever be treated as a normal person and not some fragile china figurine who needed lording over? Would she ever be seen for who she was and not what she was? If she could ever achieve such a thing, it would be the most wonderful feeling she would know.

Staring out at the expanse of Fantasia and into the indigo horizon, Moonchild's memories of Atreyu and the longing thoughts of freedom to be who she truly was, broke as she recalled how Mandor gazed at her while bowing to her just a little while ago. A sickening feeling passed through her. It was as if he was disrobing her with his eyes. She pressed her hands to the side of her head, fighting off the memory as fast as she could. Why was Lord Mandor making her feel this way? He was courteous, refined. Everything a nobleman should be. But still there were times he made her very uneasy. Like the way he called her "Your Highness" or how he had tried to kiss her hand when they first met that morning. Then there were the times when he glanced at her when he thought she wasn't looking. At dinner, Mandor had kept making eye contact in a way as if he knew something she didn't. But then again, perhaps she WAS overreacting, and there really was nothing about which to worry. Maybe Cairon was right; maybe their guest most likely had nothing evil in mind at all. Anyway, if he intended to do harm against her, he wouldn't have come to the Ivory Tower to inform her of this black dragon terrorizing Fantasia. Would he?

Little did she know how vital it was to trust her instincts...


	4. Trickory

Chapter Rating: T [for mild profanity]

**DISCLAIMER: See previous chapters for the Disclaimer. I do not own any characters except for Mandor, Brijatte, Mr. Hinkron and the handmaidens.**

**AUTHORS NOTES: I would like to thank all who has given me rave reviws on this story. Many extra hugs and thanks of gratitude goes toward Zari aka Shizuku Tsukishima749 & Scarlett aka Scarlet Moon At Midnight. Without your glowing detailed reviews and brilliant ideas I would be lost and at a standstill. My love goes out to you both for your loyal friendship and encouragement. Keep up the outstanding ideas and review please as i do the same for both of you in return. Hugs and kisses to you both as well as to all my other reviewers who have come to love this story and anxiously yet patiently await for more chapters.**

Mandor, after leaving the Empress at her straight to the room put aside for him. Once inside, he leafed through one of his books. He smiled wickedly. "Ah, yes," he whispered under his breath, "everything is going exactly the way I predicted it would." Tucking the heavily bound book beneath his arm, he strode over to a tapestry with blazing dragons upon its velvet surface. Lifting one side, he started to feel along the wall behind it. "Where is it?" he muttered in frustration "I know it's here somewhere. I just found it this morning......" Without warning, a panel swung forth revealing a secret passageway with stairs leading deep down below the Tower itself. "Ah, ah, here it is! I knew it. Good thing nobody else does. This room is never really used and the tapestry is only dusted from the front." The panel door closed noiselessly behind him.

He made his way down some gray stone steps omitting the damp, chill air around him as he continued his journey forward. Going deep, deeper underground. A long, dimly lit corridor was at its bottom. There were moss growing in small patches along the stone ground and walls. A vague moist, earthlike redolence was in the atmosphere. The only sound was the click clacking of his boots as he marched down the passageway. He opened a door embedded at the very end of the hall. It creaked and he stopped, listening for sounds indicating someone from up above might have heard. Nothing. Even though he was _quite_ far below the Tower's main floor, one could never be too careless. Satisfied, he entered, sealing the entrance.

Before him was a large spacious room: Old chairs, tables, and other pieces of furniture, too worn for further usage upstairs, were stored in the corners. Frayed rugs lay on the wooden floor while tattered, torn tapestries hung from the walls. Another stone door was located on the far side of the room. Mandor went to this door and opened it. He saw the hallway alongside it led went in the directions of the dungeons. A sneer curved his lips. '_Those damned things hadn't been used in ages,' _he thought, '_for no one has been down here in centuries. This will be perfect._'

After making sure both hidden doors were firmly in place, Mandor went about setting up the chamber to his liking: He dragged one of the dark oak wood tables to the center of the room before ridding the fireplace of all its cobwebs, dirt, and burned charcoal that must have been coals at one time or another. Mice came flying out of a rusty iron cauldron, which was now hung in the middle of the hearth, to land roughly on the ground. Their wee feet pitter-pattered as they scurried to hide in all the nooks and crannies hidden in the walls or floor. A sudden burst of light made the last mouse look up before _whoosh! _it vanished into a crack in a floorboard. This light had come from a ball Mandor had conjured up and was now suspending in midair. Bright green flames flickered all around it.

Mandor was now grinning madly as he stared deep into the center of the ball. "Come now, come my pet. I summon you. Let me see what you are up to." Trails of silvery-gray smoke billowed out from the middle of the ball as an image of a jet-black dragon came into view. Its massive wings beat the air as scorching red-orange flames shot from the long mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth, setting whole buildings up in smoke. From deep within it's throat, a loud high-pitched sound burst forth, shattering windows, sending entire blocks of buildings crashing to the ground, destroying two towns along with half a city in its wake of flames and earth-shattering shrieks. Fantasians were screaming, running for their lives as this great creature snapped at their heels, hoping to grab a bite for lunch.

"Hah-hah-ha! That's it my precious pet, do what you will, For this _so-called empress _will never suspect _I _was the one who sent you." Still laughing like a madman Mandor spun around in a circle pulling his sable cloak around his body. "The little virtuous wretch has no idea of what I have in store. She should not be the one controlling Fantasia! _It should be me!_ But I cannot do such a thing with her still obtaining the throne! There must be a way to get rid of her......."

Nearly a half-hour passed before a loud burst of maddening laughter boomed around the chamber. "Ah, I've got it! I will find a way to marry the Empress. Once I have done so, I will seduce the little royal vixan and then... make her my personal slave! I was clever to disguise myself as a white owl to fly over here. Even better, I was lucky enough to gain entrance into the Ivory Tower. The Empress does not seem to care for me as much as I had hoped. She is kind enough to let me stay but that is her duty to do so in the first place. I could sense her wariness grow throughout dinner. So far she does not fully suspect what I have in mind. This is good. Yet at the same time she is slightly distrustful of me. The good-for-nothing demimonde seems to be too strong-willed to be easily controlled. But nonetheless, I will make her surrender to me no matter what it takes! For after we wed she will, from that night on, be my concubine. With Moonchild out of the way, I, Mandor, will be able to obtain not only the throne, but all of Fantasia as well. Finally, I will have a chance to do with this world as I will!"

Outside the Tower, thunder boomed and lightning crashed as this yeoman began to work out the details to overpower Fantasia.

The sun was rising as Moonchild made her way through one of the lavish gardens surrounding the Tower, lost in thought. Perhaps her thoughts of Mandor's behavior the previous day were misleading. Yes that was it: Her mind must have reacted too quickly. Mabye she _had_ jumped to conclusions too soon.... After all, he had only been there less then a day so there hadn't been enough time for her to get a good judgment on his intentions. Her hands gathered the skirts of her dress as she descended the stone steps that would take her to the next level of this massive garden. The raised material fell to pool gently about her dainty feet as she petted a fawn with one hand while feeding the mother some grain, retrieved from a small metal bin hanging on the side of the low circular fence, with the other before moving on. A sound from behind made her jump. Moonchild whirled around, heart pounding, her body tense. But it was only Mandor coming towards her, a faint smile lighting up his ice-blue eyes. '_Quit it_, her mind scolded, _you are being ridiculous_. _Just calm down!'_ She forced herself to relax as she gave her guest a warm smile.

"Good morning my lord."

"The same to you My Lady." Mandor offered her his arm; "May I join you?"

"Of..of course." She slipped her arm through his, her fingers lightly holding onto the crook of his elbow. They continued slowly along the path, admiring all there was around them.

"You certainly have a lovely place here."

"Thank you."

"It is a beautiful morning is it not?"

"Yes, it is." There was a pause, "My lord--"

"Please, Your Highness, call me Mandor."

"Yes, well, Mandor, about this dragon. Why is it causing so much destruction? What do you think it's after?"

"I do not know Your Highness. Perhaps it is one of those creatures who just ... enjoys those sort of things."

Moonchild's eyes darkened as she took all of this in. "Oh, I see." As they made their way down another set of stairs, she suddenly tripped on the hem of her gown and would have gone sprawling upon the ground if it hadn't been for Mandor catching her around the waist in mid-fall.

His laughter filled the crisp morning air as he straightened her back up. "Having a hard time walking are you, Your Highness?"

Moonchild looked up from trying to untangle her gown from around her ankles. She didn't know wheither to be humored or angry. "My lord!"

"I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you Your Highness. I was only jesting."

"_Moonchild. My name is Moonchild_." She moved a stray hair off of her forehead. "And I know you were, not to worry." She forced a tight smile before a sudden gust of wind came over them both.

"Cold?"

"No." She lied as she tried to hide the chills coming over her.

"Well, then, come, we best be getting back." Moonchild nodded. Taking his arm once more they started to make their way back to the warmth of the Tower.

As the week went by, Moonchild became less tense around Mandor. Though she was never fully comfortable in his presence, she did try to be a good hostess as she had been taught to do so and enjoy his company as best she could. Any negative thoughts she had of their guest were pushed to the back of her mind for the time being. In the mornings, after she'd eaten and dressed, the Empress sneaked down to one of the many libraries where she spent long hours secretly reading in a section where books written mainly for emperors and advisers were kept. Some books had subjects on sword fighting, self-defense, or basic wilderness survival. Others held information on the history of certain cultures or an in-depth look of all the different regions within the endless Fantasian realm. After a partaking of a delectable lunch, she changed out of her royal attire into a simple riding skirt and blouse. While this was being done, her horse, Phasck, was saddled by one of the many stable hands. Her afternoon rides were the only time of the day where she felt truly free. Free to be a normal person and not just 'The Childlike Empress'. Free to roam wherever she pleased.......that was until she reached one of the many walls enclosing the Tower grounds. When this occurred, Moonchild's heart always sank as she turned Phasck around so they could head back to his stable. She would then, at Brijatte's instance, bathe and dress for dinner. Moonchild thought this was ridiculous since Brijatte always seemed to choose garments too majestic for such a routine occurrence. After what sometimes seemed like an endless five or six couse meal, Mandor would join her for a walk in one of the Tower's many gardens before escorting his hostess to her rooms so she could retire for the night.

Ten days after Mandor's arrival Moonchild was sitting in one of the library armchairs with her legs dangling over one of the armrests when a voice came from behind:

"Your Highness?"

Her body jolted, causing the book she was reading to fall to the carpet with a soft _thump_! "Mandor! I didn't hear you enter." Swinging her legs gracefully to the floor, she turned in her seat to look at him. "How are you?" Her hand reached to retrieve her fallen book. Before she could do so, Mandor nimbly swept it off the floor just as her fingers touched it's surface and put it away. The Empress's eyes narrowed in annoyance, her soft mouth set in a firm line: "I could have done that myself thank you."

Mandor was privately stunned. Possessing a hint of irritatted determination the emotion in her voice told him this was no ordinary female. She was not demure, meek, like the other royal women he'd known. Far from it actually. The Empress was refined all right, but she wasn't as frail or delicate as she looked. Full of inner strength, stubbornness, quiet courage, and fearless to speak her mind, Moonchild was, Mandor realized, not going to bend to his will as easily as he'd hoped. He hadn't counted on her standing up to him or her independent will. His plan of taking over Fantasia was going to take longer then anticipaited. The Empress whirled on her heel and left the room.

"Moonchild?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you--"

"I'm going to saddle my horse so I can have my afternoon ride."

"You needn't have to do that. You should be concentrating on something else."

Moonchild stopped to look at him, arms folded across her chest, face upturned oddly in a smirk, and raised an eyebrow as she surveyed the man before her for a long moment. Then, she slowly, challengingly, set her hands on her hips, a smirk growing as she questioned her guest. "'Like what?'"

"Well, like needlepoint and ceremony presentations." Moonchild wrinkled her nose--she _hated_ needlepoint. It gave her a headache. "I do not think it is proper for a woman to do _such_ ..._hard labor_... you should leave such tasks to your advisers, chambermaids, and other members of your court."

"Why?" He was starting to sound a bit like what humans called a male chauvinist.

"Because, Your Highness, for _you_ it is not necessary." They had now reached the stables. "Let me get the door for--"

"I am very capable of doing this myself." Her voice held a note of iciness.

"But you _don't have _to do this." Mandor protested as the Empress went toward her horse's stall.

Moonchild glared at him, she was starting to lose patience. "I like to do things for myself once in a while," she snapped, "it gives me a sense of independence." Mandor watched in astonishment as she began to tend skillfully to her steed. She stood on her tiptoes to remove the bridle from its place on the wall: "Is it such a crime for one to want to do things for oneself?"

"Uh... no it is not for ordinary people or Fantasians."

_"Am I not an ordinary person?"_

"You _are_ the Empress."

"So?"

"As Empress you should not have to do things for yourself. It is a privilege for others to serve you."

"I like to learn new things. I enjoy learning how to master everyday tasks so I can give my servants a break once in a while. Even if it is not the proper thing for my ranking." Mandor smiled to himself. He did find her anonyingly amusing.

Moonchild glanced sideways at her guest. "Will you be joining me?"

"No, I shall not, but thank you. You go on ahead."

"I'll see you at dinner then?"

"Yes. Good day My Lady."

"Good day to you as well. See you this evening." Moonchild watched as he left before returning to her task at hand.

"So what is your occupation?" Moonchild inquired Mandor two days later.

"My occupation?"

"It is a human term used to explain daily work one does to get income."

"Oh, well, I find knights and other Fantasians in a simular sort of "occupation", as you so put it, and send them off wherever they are needed."

"Have any of them been successful?"

"Err... No... Your Highness. They... they all perished in one way or another."

"How?"

"Some by enchantment....you know....dark spells....powerful black magic... Others had perished in horrible storms or were devoured by werewolves. There were even some who went on their assigned mission and were mysteriously found dead later on with no indication to the cause of death.

"What about you, have you been on any quests?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I have."

"And... were any of them successful?"

"Yes, they were." Mandor paused a moment, looking at the Empress. "What about you?"

"My lord - I mean Mandor, I do not understand. What do you mean 'about me'?"

"How do you spend your days? Besides reading of course. Do you go on any wondrous, grand adventures?"

Moonchild's face flushed as her right hand fluttered to gracefully rest just below her collarbone. She eyed him for a moment before turning her head away. "No. Because of my position as well as my gender I am not allowed to do such things." She turned back towards him with a look of longing in her eyes. "Oh, but I would like to though. I have always wanted to interact with my people and see how they live and what they do instead of learning about them from books." Her hand dropped from its former place to toy with the chiffon fabric of her attire. " It seems like I've always been kept locked away- - except on special occasions -- unable to see what my world is really like." There was a tinge of sadness in her next words. "I do not see why my advisers think they have to keep me here _all _of the time."

"Here... Your Highness?"

The Empress ignored the fact that he was addressing her as _'Your Highness' _instead of "_Moonchild_.' "Yes, _here_. The Ivory Tower. I have _never_ in my life been allowed to go outside the outer walls of this palace. When I was younger I did not think anything of it. But now...I want the chance to go alone to Fantasian communities for no reason but to visit its inhabitants, interact with them as if I were one of them and to see my world as it truly is. I want to be able to show my people I am and can be _more _then a delicate, mysteriously wise being whom they admire from afar......" Her voice drifted off as she looked outside a window at the slowly setting sun in the distance.

Mandor sat listening. It never occurred to him how ambitious the Empress really was until now.

Fighting unshed tears, she cleared her throat before continuing in a more lighter tone: "Do you have any family?"

"Not any more I'm afraid."

"What happened?"

"My mother died soon after I was born. As for my father, well, he wasn't around much."

"How so?"

"Business I suppose. When I was about fifteen years of age he left and never came back. Later I found out he had drowned in the Swamps of Sadness."

"You did not have any brothers or sisters?"

"None. I was my mother's only child. All my other relatives were either deceased or too far away to take me in."

"So you basically grew up alone then?"

"That is correct."

"How old are you now?"

"I am in my twenty-eighth year of my life.

Before Moonchild could question her guest more, Carion burst into the room, his dark face flushed, his long white robes flying about him. Both Moonchild and Mandor leaped to their feet.

"Carion!" The Empress gasped.

Carion nearly slumped against the table where his Empress and her guest had been sitting. Mandor pulled out his chair into which the adviser now collapsed. There was silence for a few moments while Carion caught his breath before he spoke: "Another attack! There has been another attack....."

_"By that bloody dragon again?"_

"Your Highness!" Carion lifted his head from his hand intending to give his Empress a brief but fierce lecture on propriety when she gave him a look telling him to keep his mouth shut.

"Oh, Carion, don't your _dare_ start on that propriety lecture of yours again. I'm not in the mood! Besides, there is a more important matter here we need to discuss. Now, tell me _exactly_ what happened. And," she warned, giving him an even harder stare, "_don't even think about _'sugarcoating it,' as the humans would say, for me. I want every detail! Am I making myself _perfectly clear_?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Good." She folded her arms across her chest, head tilted to one side, waiting, "I'm listening."

"I just received from a messenger, a few minutes ago, news of another gruesome attack by the black dragon Mandor spoke of."

"Go on."

"It appears to have ravaged yet another town."

"My Gods. Where?" Moonchild's face was now grave.

"To the north of here. Far past the Swamps of Sadness and the Desert of Shattered Hope. I do not know its precise location though."

A sickening feeling hit Moonchild's stomach. "Were there any casualties?"

"I'm afraid so Your Highness."

"How many?"

"I am not sure, but I do know some of them involved children."

Moonchild shut her eyes tightly as she tried not to think of all the suffering families. She turned away and walked over to the window, lost in thought. It seemed like an eternity before she spoke again, her back still towards both her adviser and guest: "What are we to do?"

"We must find someone who is capable of going forth and destroying this creature." Carion said, almost too calmly.

"Leave it to me." Mandor eagerly stepped forward. "I'll find this person for you!"

"No!" She snapped. The two men stared at her. "That will not be necessary."

"Empress, what are you talking about?"

"What I am _saying_, Carion, is I already have someone in mind."

"Who?" They both anxiously inquired.

Moonchild turned back around and, with her arms still folded firmly across her chest, began walking back towards the table in the center of the room, her eyes fixed on the two men. A slight smile crept across her face. "Atreyu."

They both stared at her in shocked disbelief.

"Empress!" Carion cried. "Have you gone mad?"

"No, Carion, I have not!"

"But... but... _Atreyu_." Carion sputtered. "Why _HIM_?"

"It is simple. Atreyu is the only one I trust. He has saved my life once before has he not?"

"Well... uh..."

_"Has he not?"_

Carion sighed; there was no way he could make his Empress change her mind once it had been made up. "Yes... Your Highness... he.....has."

Moonchild tossed her head so she could get her hair out of her eyes. "Good. Now, will you please see to it Atreyu is notified immediately?"

"But Your Highness--" Carion tried to reason with her.

_"Damnit Carion!" _The Empress slammed her hands down upon the table with such force it made both Carion and Mandor nearly jump back. She leaned in to where she was almost nose-to-nose with her adviser. Her voice dropped to a deadly hiss: "There are few times I have asked you of this: - and this is one of those times - _please do not ask questions! _There will be time for you to question my decision later. But for now; just.....do as I say."

Stunned, Carion shakily rose from his seat. Moonchild shoved herself away from the table, her lovely features a mask of fierce stubbornness.

Mandor was amazed by this sudden burst of fiery emotion as he watched Carion hold Moonchild's unyielding gaze. "Should we not be getting started?"

The others looked at him, bewildered.

"Yes... of course..." Moonchild agreed. To Carion she stated shortly: "I think you'd best be running along. Don't you think?" Carion gave her a tense smile before departing. Moonchild followed. At the door she turned; "Mandor are you coming with us?"

"I am right behind you."

Moonchild raced to the throne room to speak with the messenger, who had brought the terrible update of this monster, herself. All the while she was thinking; in just a few short days.....for the first time in years, she would see Atreyu once more.


	5. Return to Fantasia

**Chapter Rating: T [Again, for mild profanity]**

**DISCLAIMER: See previous chapters for the Disclaimer. I do not own any characters except for Mr. Borander, the textbook title and author: **_**A Complete History of Literature by Melinda OcHanson **_**and Christa's full name: which is Christiana. **

"Not a revolt against legitimate authority, it was not even any radical reconstruction of the machinery of the state (though Burke always distrusted the wisdom and, even, the possibility of radical reformation), which made him the enemy of the revolution. He admits, in his Reflections, that such reconstruction was required, and would have had the Assembly set to work with an eye upon their old constitution to guide them, and, where that failed them, on the British constitution. What roused Burke's passionate antagonism were the philosophy of the revolution and the spirit of the revolution. An abstract philosophy which seemed to him false to the fundamental facts of man's moral and political nature. A spirit which he detested as the relentless enemy alike of liberty a religion-of that religion which alone can teach men to subordinate power to duty, to accept the mysterious dispensation which assigns to each of us his place in society, which alone can guide us in life..."

The incessant, neverending tone of the man standing motionless at the head of the classroom droned on and on and on, his tone never changing, the words of his lecture blending together till it seemed like one sound washing in and out of the ears of the group before him. His audience had lost interest over an hour ago. The students in the front row just sat up straight in cold, hard wooden chairs staring mutely at, but not really seeing, the blackboard, which at one time must have been a nice shade of dark green but was now a dull, sickly olive. Other people in the room were looking at the front of the room too. But their eyes were fixed as though fascinated by the thin line snailing its way from one little dot to the next located in between the numbers of the round clock that sat high on the wall in the far right hand corner of the room.

Bastian, sitting in the middle row, sat like the rest of his classmates in his uncomfortable chair. One arm propping his head up with his hand cupping one side of his face while the other held a pen that absentmindedly doodled in between notes located in his spiral notebook. The tips of his fingers had gone numb a half-hour beforehand owing to the fact that the heater, which was supposed to be keeping the classroom toasty, was broken yet again. His dark brown eyes were glazed and slightly out of focus, his mouth slightly open as he sat stiffly cramped in his desk waiting for the bell to ring so he could go back home where it's heater worked wonderfully. A _very_ unpleasant chilliness had taken over the room, forcing it's occupants to either keep their coats on or, for those who didn't have coats that day, shiver like icicles in desks that put blisters on their bottoms by the end of the two hour lesson.

Suddenly a loud _clanking_ sound broke the still air. Several people including Bastian jumped what seemed like ten feet into the air. Notebooks, pens, pencils, and some purses went tumbling to the floor. A few book bags were knocked over when their owners feet accidentally kicked them One boy was startled so much he lost his balance and slid out of his seat to the floor. When he tried to get up again, his foot got caught in the desk leg and he tripped, making both him and the lightweight desk topple to the floor with a loud _bang_! Everyone--save for the teacher--looked around to see what the cause of the loud clanking noise was. Groans of annoyance rose from the small crowed as their eyes fell upon the metal grate of the heater lying on the floor. Many heads shook in disgust and a few mutters of "not again" filled the room as everyone picked up their books, belongings and, in the one boy's case, his desk, placed them back in their proper places. Bastion sighed and rolled his eyes. This was the fifteenth time this year in which not only had the heater broken down but it's grate cover had fallen off.

Mr. Borander shuffled his notes and continued with his lecture as if nothing had happened:

"The argument is necessarily inconclusive, yet not without importance as establishing the fact that the success of the revolution was due to the skill with which its managers had succeeded in transferring unimpaired to the new government the authority of the old. This was just what the Assembly had failed to do; and, hence, the necessity for the authority of the guillotine and the sword..."

The minutes crawled by even more slowly then before. Noticing the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, Mr. Borander glanced up from his notes to find half his students gazing out the windows at the winter sky while the other half were staring stupidly ahead their eyes glazed and unfocused. A few in the back had even fallen asleep completely their heads resting on arms folded or stretched out on the surfaces of the small individual desks. Pursing his lips in a fine line, his brow narrowed in disgusted annoyance, Mr. Borander calmly put his notes into his breast pocket. He picked up a small metal stick containing a brass ball on its end, strode over to a small brass gong hanging low on the wall, pulled back the arm holding the brass balled stick and swung it forward with as much force as he could.

_BOONNNGGG!_

The reaction to the deafening sound was absolutely incredible. Every single one of the thirty-nine students sat bolt upright in the seats, their bodies rapped with attention as though they'd been electrocuted. The entire room sat so straight they resembled well-trained soldiers in boot camp. Satisfied he now had his students undivided attention. Mr. Borander resumed his place in front of the blackboard and pulled his notes out again and went on with his lecture.

_I can't believe I decided to take this class_, Bastian thought, mentally kicking himself, _What was I thinking of? I never would have imagined it to turn out to be the most boring subject in the world! Oh, I'm learning about the history of books and stuff all right but I just HAD to get the most boring teacher in the school!_

His stomach gave a low growl making its owner give himself another mental kick for oversleeping which resulted in him not only having to rush around the house like a chicken with its head cut off, but to end up missing breakfast for the second time that week. The edge of Bastion's mouth twitched in a small smile as visions of waffles stacked atop one another their middles soft and warm with melted butter, their crisp edges dripping with maple syrup. He could almost hear the sizzle of sausage links frying in the skillet on the stove, the fat from the plumping browning meat hissing in the Crisco-coated pan and see the plate of biscuits and sausage gravy sitting on the counter beside the stove. He remembered how the table looked the previous Saturday morning: the square wooden table held a large pitcher of orange juice, jars of strawberry jam, blackberry preserves and orange marmalade, along with a box of raisins stood huddled together in the center of the table. A saucer plate held a small mountain of toast; the casserole dish full of scrambled eggs with specks of green onion and black pepper in them stood beside the platter of bacon and sausage links. He could see his father, Barney, clearly in his mind ladling oatmeal containing both brown and white sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg from a large pot on the stove into bowls while his stepmother Jane retrieved the gallon jug of milk from the fridge...

"Mr. Bux!"

Bastian was suddenly jarred out of his daydream to find Mr. Borander standing beside his desk, looking down at him with ill patience reflected in his eyes.

"Wha?" Bastian stared up at his teacher wondering why he was standing next to him.

"I asked you, to tell me what roused Mr. Burke's passionate antagonism."

"Uh...Waffles?"

The entire class exploded with laughter and Bastian wished he stayed home in bed today.

Mr. Borander's nostrils flared with anger as he glared down at his student.

"No wonder you were late for class again Mr. Bux! You were relishing in the aftermath of your breakfast on you way here!"

"Um, not exactly sir, I um, uh, missed breakfast this morning."

To his relief, nothing came from the remainder of the class. A lot of them knew what it was like to miss a meal if they were rushing around or were running late.

Mr. Borander was _not _at all impressed.

"Since Mr. Bux fails to know the answer to my question," he said loudly, making Bastian rub his forehead in attempt to ward off an oncoming headache, "who can tell me the _correct _response?"

The room fell silent.

Mr. Borander paced the room, walking up and down the rows of desks like a sergeant. "Anybody?"

A hand rose in the air.

Every head in the room turned toward the middle row. A young woman with waist-length platinum blonde hair loosely braided put her hand down. She was wearing a slightly flared knee-length black skirt with a white blouse, a vest whose color matched her skirt along with dark knee-length nylons and loafers. It was Christiana or Christa for short, his childhood friend who was by far the smartest and prettiest girl in the class.

Bastian took one look at her and was _so_ embarrassed he went purple.

"Yes?"

"The answer is that it was the philosophy of the revolution and the spirit of the revolution. An abstract philosophy which seemed to him false to the fundamental facts of man's moral and political nature. A spirit which he detested as the relentless enemy alike of liberty a religion. Of that religion which alone can teach men to subordinate power to duty, to accept the mysterious dispensation which assigns to each of us his place in society, which alone can guide us in life as well as in death."

"Very good, thank you Christiana." Mr. Borander turned, glowering at the rest of the class. _"Well, why are you not all copying this down?"_

There was a sudden silence as notes were quickly copied onto paper and the bell that rung twenty minutes later couldn't have been more of a welcome.

Bastian, still very red in the face, gratefully gathered up his things and, stiff limbed from sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair-desk for two hours, left the freezing cold room.

. . .

Bastian, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, frowned in concentration as he moved the tip of his pen down the page of his textbook as he searched for anything that would help him write the essay Mr. Borander had assigned to him. Because he had not known the answer to Mr. Borander's question that day he had been given extra homework - the only one out of the whole class to receive any that week.

It was well past midnight and he had been sitting at his desk for what seemed like hours. A large, heavy hardback text book: _A Complete History of Literature _by Melinda OcHanson lay opened up in front of him and he _still_ hadn't been able to find a single thing so far that would help him with this report.

The augmented office desk that had once belonged to his late mother was not in its usual chipper condition. Instead of it being neat and orderly, the sleek, shiny, dark mahogany wood surface now had scattered pieces of half if not barely started paragraphs of the essay its owner was trying so hard to write. Textbooks for his other classes: Math and Zoology, lay stacked on top of one another at the back of the desk against the wall. A piece of paper was sticking out between the pages of his mathematics textbook--Bastion had been working on it earlier that afternoon while a bottle of white-out stood next to a mug of coffee--now gone cold--resided above the textbook that he was reading.

He wished he could have used the computer to type up his essay but he knew Mr. Borander would just throw it away the instant he received it. For he believed computers were a waste of time and the 'kids now-a-days' no longer knew how to write out things longhand. So he _insisted_ that _all_ assignments, no matter what they were, HAD to be written _neatly_ in longhand. If a student_ dared _to type up their homework or did not write tidily, Mr. Borander would scold him or her loudly during class and make that person do the assignment all over again. If he was in an _especially_ bad mood, and one had to watch what one said or did, for his temper was _quite_ short, he just simply threw the paper away and gave the person a zero.

None of the students liked Mr. Borander. He was the most_ boring_ teacher in the world. He was a tall, sallow-skinned man with dark gray hair cut in military style, small beady eyes, a slightly hooked nose and as skinny as a beanpole if not skinnier. Along with this came a temper _so _short that if you dared to argue or prove him wrong you would get extra work faster then you could howl "unfair!" _How_ he'd managed to get a teaching job _let alone _hold it for over twenty years was anyone's guess. His lectures were _so_ boring the entire class were in a zombie-like torpor twenty minutes into the lessons. What mad it even _more_ dull was that his voice _never _wavered. It _never_ went high or low or showed _any_ emotion at all, unless of course he was irritated or in a foul mood.

It was _bad _enough that Mr. Borander's lectures were duller then a month of detention. But what was _worse_ was the homework he gave out. All he did was tell the class what the lesson was or to copy it off the board but he never explained exactly what you had to do. He never went over the homework with the class and got annoyed if questions were asked. If you missed the day the homework was given out, he would snap at you telling you to get it from another student. About once a month he would give a test and he only gave the students two days to study for it. If you were late for class, had appointments, or were sick on test days you instantly received a zero--_no questions asked_. And every two weeks he liked to throw in a pop quiz which, like the tests, had the _hardest_ questions imaginable.

The pen paused at the head of a promising looking paragraph. Bastian picked up his small, round glasses which lay folded neatly on the desk near his books and put them on for the eye doctor reported at the end of last year that he needed them for reading, writing longhand, and proofreading. He then began to read and, after he was satisfied with his findings, began to finally write his essay.

He had been writing steadily for about an hour when a sensation came over him-a prickly feeling that surged through his veins making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something, a little voice inside his head told him, was wrong. He could feel as if someone or something was watching him from behind. Very slowly he turned his head to look behind. He found himself staring at the full-length mirror that was on the inner side of the open closet door. His eyes widened with shock at what he saw. He did not, as he had expected, see his reflection. Instead he found himself staring at a clearing surrounded by trees with a patch of smooth dirt in the center and in the distance, just beyond this clearing, lay a smooth landscape of pale wheat colored grass blowing, it seemed without a ripple, in a gentle light breeze.

Confused and utterly perplexed, Bastion removed his glasses, put them in the back pocket of his jeans, got up and slowly walked toward the mirror, his movements careful and unsure. Standing in front of the glass he looked at the scene before him as a chill ran down his spine making him shiver slightly.

"The Great Plains..." he croaked out, his voice no more then a whisper. "But how... Why?"

As his very confused brain tried to find answers to these questions his hand was reaching out to touch the mirror hoping to find some solution to this enigma. The tips of his fingers met the smooth, cool glass. But before his mind could even comprehend what he was doing, before he could think at all, there was a soft_ whooshing_ sound and he all of a sudden sucked into the mirror in a whirl of cool, fast, wind and blending color.

. . .

_Wham!_

Bastian landed flat on his stomach so hard the wind was knocked out of him. He lay there, his face pressed into the ground, with his arms outstretched, gasping for breath as he breathed in the smell of rich, damp earth. His heart was pounding away in his chest as if it were a very fast drum. After about five minutes or so he tried to move but couldn't for he winced as he realized every bone in his body was aching more now then it did when he was sitting crammed in his small desk of his History of Literature class. Too stiff and sore to even think about moving again, he raised his head and found himself looking up at a clear blue sky through the branches of what appeared to be a very old oak tree. It's dark green leaves moved gracefully as a light wind rustled them against one another on their fragile, slender limbs. Chirps of birds could be heard sporadically as they conversed to one another in song. What resembled a squirrel scampered along one of the upper branches of the oak, then stopped as it noticed the figure lying on the ground. It cocked its little head to one side, the deep, dark, round eyes blinked as a ray of sunshine shone through the branches of a nearby sycamore, dappling the ground with warm, pale golden light. A soft crunching sound, like twigs or dead leaves being stepped upon startled the little squirrel so much that it gave an agitated, high-pitched squeak and scurried out of sight.

Glancing to one side, Bastian found himself gazing at a young buck standing calmly behind a small bush at one edge of the glade. It stood there, its eyes wide, its ears pricked up and alert as it listened, watched for a minute or so for signs or sounds of danger. Then, after receiving the silent reassurance that this was no predator, the deer came slowly into view as it entered the glade on long slender legs. Gracefully the buck made its way across the glade, its head bent slightly as it searched the ground for food. As it passed Bastian, whose head moved as he watched this creature with fascination, it paused to look at him. The liquid darkness of its eyes taking in the human that lay facedown in the dirt. Bastion just gazed back at the buck musing as his own eyes took in the sleekness of its soft smooth fur, the long slim legs and delicate little hooves. The antlers arched over the buck's perfect little ears like a crown, the wee tail, streaked with a stripe of white, twitched as the two species, neither moving a muscle, held each other's gaze. After a short while the buck moved onwards, stopping at the outskirts of the forest where the vast wide plains lay.

Bastian propped his head on folded arms and, with a small smile, watched the buck as it began to feast on the juicy grass growing at the edge of the forest.

Suddenly, the buck's head jerked up as it stepped back as though startled. It's whole body quivered violently as it backed up quickly, its head moving from side to side on its long, slender neck. Whirling around the animal nearly trampled Bastian, who covered his head to avoid two pairs of hooves cracking his skull, dashing from the clearing as if its cute little tail had been caught on fire and disappeared into the safety of the thick, dense forest. Bastian on the other hand, after tentatively removing his hands from the top of his head, had barely enough time to look up to see what had startled the poor creature, when out of nowhere, an arrow came whizzing in his direction through the air like a bolt of lightning.

"_Agggghhh!" _

Bastian thought for sure he was going to have a heart attack. While frantically trying to scramble to his feet so he could get out of the line of fire, his sneakers slipped on some dead leaves resulting in him crashing facedown on the ground once more. He felt a rush of wind as the arrow went flying over his head, making a few of his hairs stand up on end, to land in some bushes behind him. His poor nerves didn't even have the time to recover from the shock when their possessor spotted a second arrow, headed the same way, in the distance. Without giving himself time to think, Bastian rolled over and over till he made contact with the trunk of a tree. Flatting himself back up against the base of the trunk, he watched in horror as the arrow moved closer and closer. His eyes, already wide as teacup saucers, nearly popped out of their sockets as he gave a little shuddering gulp when the tip of the arrow landed smack dab between his outstretched legs in the dirt. Inches, it seemed, from his crotch.

This was all too much for him to take in at one time. His eyes rolled back in his head as he keeled right over, letting his body slump sideways and tumble over one last time onto his belly as he went into what was close to a dead faint on the forest floor. He lay there on the ground for what seemed like an eternity, feeling the pounding in his head like a jackhammer beating down on his skull, as his breathing slowly became normal. He buried his face in the crook of his arm feeling cold sweat on his forehead. The sound of hoof beats reached his ears but he was still too much in shock to do anything except lie there.

A voice from overhead broke the still air:

"Damn." Then, "Bastian? What are you doing here?"

Bastian slowly flipped over onto his back to find himself staring into the face of a white horse, whose hot, smelly breath bore down into his face, standing over him. There was silence as his frazzled brain fought to work properly again.

"Ar...Artax?"

The horse let out a brief whinny as it moved beside him and the next thing that came into view, was a young man in his early twenties with long dark brown hair. He was clad in pale tan garments that looked as if they had been made from buffalo hide. He sat there on his horse staring down at the twenty-year-old with a look of astonished surprise.

Bastian's face cracked into a dazed but very relived smile, "Fancy meeting you here Atreyu." He struggled to his feet wincing once more as he brushed dirt off his clothes while he watched as Atreyu rode his horse next to the trunk of the sycamore before climbing off Artax to retrieve his fallen arrow.

"Are you all right?"

"_Atreyu! That thing nearly scalped me!"_

"Sorry, I wasn't aiming for you. I was aiming for the tree."

Bastian shook his head in disgust as he watched the warrior put the arrow back into the quiver that was slung over one shoulder. "Well, you _could_ have aimed better you know." His voice held a hint of sarcasm.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the other arrow is would you?"

"Yeah. It's back there in the bushes."

Atreyu looked curiously at his friend as he returned with his other arrow, "Bastian," he asked slowly, "What in the name of Fantasia are you doing here? How did you get here?"

Bastian let out a huge sigh and rubbed his grimy face with both hands. "I don't know why I'm here Atreyu, I honestly don't. All I know is that I was writing an essay for my History of Literature class when I felt like something was wrong. I turned around to look in the mirror in my bedroom and instead of seeing my refection I saw the glade that we're in now. So I got up from my desk to take a better look. My fingers reached out to touch the glass of the mirror and they had barely made contact when the room melted away in a whirl of wind and color. Next thing I know I'm lying flat on my face in this glade which happens to be the same clearing I had been looking at in my mirror."

"Hmm. Well, in any case it is good to see you again. Maybe you needed what you humans call a vacation."

Bastian grinned, "Maybe."

Atreyu swung himself up onto Artax's back. "I'm heading back to my village now." He held out a hand, "Would you like to come along?"

"I have nothing better to do."

Atreyu laughed, Bastian joined in his laughter as he clambered on the steed to sit behind his best friend.

. . .

They had been ambling through the vast stretch of prarie for some time when Atreyu abruptly pulled Artax's reins taunt.

"What is it? Why are we stopping?"

"Look." Atreyu whispered. His arm raised to point in the direction ahead of them.

"Where?" Bastian peered over Atreyu's shoulder thoroughly confused.

"There, ahead of us."

"I don't see anything."

"Look carefully. There's something in the distance moving this way..."

Bastian put his hand up to his forehead to shield the sunlight from his face. His eyes narrowed as he strained to look in the shadows of a small mountain. The heat from the sun was bearing down on top of his head, threatening to trigger a headache. He dropped his arm to his side.

"Atreyu, my friend, I think you need to have your eyes checked. 'Cause I'm telling you I don't see anything moving."

"I swear to you I saw something---"

"The only thing that's moving are the leaves of the trees blowing in the wind! Either you're hallucinating or your eyesight's---"

"Shhh," Atreyu clapped a hand over Bastian's mouth, "can you hear something?"

Bastion let out a groan of frustration and smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand, "_Oh, My God, Atreyu! You need to see a psychiatrist! I seriously think this heat's fried your brain_!" He leaned forward to take the reins, "Come on, let's go."

"No! We stay here for now."

"What! Stay here? Are you crazy or something? We need to get to your village before dark you know."

Atreyu turned around to face him. "We can take our time. I did not say we_ had _to be there tonight."

"_Whoa, whoa, wait a sec_," Bastian put up his hands. "_I am not about to go traipsing throughout the wilderness in the dark!"_

"We can rest for the night."

"Where? I don't see any motels around do you?" Atreyu gave him a blank stare - one Bastian ignored. "_There is no way I'm sleeping on the ground again!"_

"You did not mind it the last time you were visiting me in Fantasia when we went on one of my hunts together."

"That didn't mean I liked it! I froze my ass off all night and my back was killing me by the time I got up at the crack of dawn--which by the way _you insisted _we do!"

"I wanted to get an early start."

"_Four in the morning is not my idea of an early start_! Besides, you should _know _by now I am not a morning person like _somebody_ I know!" Bastian buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief. First Mr. Borander's class and the senseless extra homework, then having not one but two arrows nearly skewer him, now this! An exasperated sigh escaped him. It was turning out to be 'one of those days'.

Atreyu said nothing. He just shook his head, grinning to himself.

Bastian removed his hands from his face before giving a sheepish smile back. "By the way, when do we eat? I'm so hungry I could eat a--"

A crunching sound made them both jump. Atreyu pulled back on the reins to make Artax move forward then stop. Both young men stared intensely straight ahead.

"Atreyu, did you hear that?"

The hunter nodded.

Something indeed was moving towards them. Its body was cloaked in shadow as the creature made its way swiftly down the steep path alongside the base of the mountain. Tense minutes passed as whatever it was neared the shadowy edge of the hill. It stopped and looked straight at the two people sitting astride the horse. Bastian's heart was thumping. What exactly was it? Would it attack? All he could see was the outline of a long, lean four-legged furry animal.

Suddenly Artax whinnied as he backed away nervously, Atreyu had to pull back hard on the hose's reins to keep it under control. "Artax! What in the Gods Names is wrong with you?"

Bastian had to cling to Atreyu's waist to keep from falling off. "What... the...Hell--?" He caught sight of the thing in the shadows. His breath caught in his throat as he let out an audible gasp. "_Oh, My God..._"

The wolf shot towards them at lightning speed, its paws barely touching the ground as it propelled itself forward. Five feet from the minuscule group it skidded to a halt then, in an instant, transformed into a person. Shocked by this, Artax reared up on his hind legs whinnying like mad. His master had to dig his heels into his side to calm him down. Bastian let out a yell of surprise as he grabbed the saddle just in time to keep himself from slipping.

_"Artax! __Heel!" _Jumping down from the saddle, Atreyu seized some mane then gently but firmly tugged at it in an effort to get the horse to settle down. The Plains Warrior's eyes flashed angrily as they fixed on the newcomer. "Who are you? What are you doing here and what do you want with---?"

The newcomer, a girl in her mid to late teens, with deep hazel eyes, a lithe olive-complexioned body and a mane of long dark hair, which fell in a straight sheet almost to her waist, cut his questions off. "Are you Atreyu?"

Dark brows knitted suspiciously, "Yes I am. Why do you ask?"

"You must come to the Ivory Tower immediately! I was informed to find and lead you there at once. Her Royal Highness the Empress Moonchild wants to see you. She says it's very important!"

Every muscle in Atreyu's body tensed. _Moonchild...The Empress herself..._

It was all he could do to keep from staggering backwards. Dazed, he wandered away from the others, lost in thought. He could vaguely hear Bastian talking to the girl as if from far away. He stopped when he was out of earshot, his mind reeling from shock. _Moonchild...Moonchild_. It had been years since he last saw her: right after the Nothing had destroyed everything in Fantasia but the Ivory Tower.

He could remember as though it were yesterday how he had, battered and bruised from his recent fight with Grmork, slowly walked up the curricular steps of the Magnolia Pavilion, passed thought the entrance expecting to find guards there, only to find himself face to face with the Empress herself. Atreyu bowed his head, biting his lower lip as his mind once again brought forth the memory of her frail body sitting so still yet confidant upon her rounded dais.

In his mind's eye he could still vividly see her features: _Skin, pale as the Ivory Tower itself, due to her terminal illness, looked smooth and unblemished. Eyes resembling lighted azure jewels gazed upon his battle-worn body out of sunken-in sockets ringed with dark circles. Soft lips, which were as colorless as her skin, enhanced her loveliness whenever she smiled at him. Hair the shade of chestnuts was held back from her face in a simple, refined manner. The sliminess of her little body had been draped entirely in ivory satin and lace so white it made the room look dim in comparison....._

His eyes opened as he shivered. For even after so long he still could not get her out of his head. He had tried not to think about her for her beauty had been haunting him ever since that fateful day. Now, after all this time, he was going to see her again. His hands clenched into fists as he fought back more images of her. Images of how she might appear now. Atreyu had heard about the aging process and how it would affect both the Empress and Fantasia, but still he did not know exactly how she would look today. Of course she would be beautiful, but in what way? That was what he did not know.

He had pondered over this question from time to time but did not dare dwell on it too long. For the mere thought of seeing her, even in his mind, made him feel as if he were surly going to go mad. For from the moment he had lain eyes on her, a tiny flame had sputtered to life within his heart. Still, try as he might to extinguish it, that little flame refused to be put out. As the days, weeks, and moths melted into years, as he slowly made the outward and inward change from boy to man, he had to mentally tell himself to get her out of his mind. It was important for him to let things be, as they should. Atreyu knew he must do his hardest to not think of the_ one_ person in all of Fantasia who _must_ be thought of only as a ruler instead of someone he could cherish and love. 'Twas nae right for a mere commoner such as himself to think of the Empress as someone he could fall in love with rather then being 'just another admirer looking upon her as though she were nothing more then a fragile figurine who could easily shatter into a thousand pieces if touched upon'.

Footsteps came from just behind and he nearly leapt out of his skin. He turned to find Bastian staring at him.

"You ready to go?"

"Huh? Oh, yes...of course I am." Atreyu started to move past him when the twenty-year-old put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Hey...are you OK?"

"Fine. Just fine."

"Are you sure? You seem kinda out of it."

"I assure you there is nothing wrong with me."

Bastian gave him a look that plainly said: _Yeah, Right. _But since he trusted his friend, he let the matter go. Reaching Artax, he hoisted himself up onto the horse then looked back to where Atreyu was still standing. "You coming?"

"Yes." Shaking himself mentally, Atreyu ran back to where Artax stood with the human boy sitting astride him. Swinging himself into the saddle, he addressed the girl, "Lead the way."

The girl nodded, turned back into the wolf and, with the horse, human, and warrior in tow, led the way back to the Ivory Tower. Back to the Empress.


End file.
